AN: rated MATURE for violence and other dark themes, though you already know that if you've been reading this fic. It will get lighter...eventually...then dark again. It will fluctuate, basically. Also, this chapter was awful to write, it had to be scrapped twice.
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Winds of Change Volume 1: The Oncoming Storm
Chapter 4: Sinner
“Sin begets sin. Whether your sins carry over to your next life, I cannot say.” –Archmage of the Mental Magics.
“Always remember, the sins you commit will haunt through this life and the next.”-Annals of the Divinity
He took the water pail to the river, and then he collected the nets for the last time. He thought he might have a use for them, so he kept them. He returned to the house, checked around one last time for anything he had missed. Of course, there was nothing left but the bedding, stools, the few utensils, and Car-the body. Most of it was too easy to carry, and if he needed rags, he could use the ones in his boots. It took a while to get used to walking in them, his feet felt constrained, and his balance was slightly off. It felt odd, not having to do the daily chores. I have to go. He couldn’t dwell, couldn’t think of her. He didn’t want to break.
By the time he left that place, he felt hollow and drained. He, obviously, couldn’t do anything about Car-the body. Even if he could have dragged her-it out, he couldn’t bear to leave it to the rats like those two did to their former friend.
He had, in another moment of not-quite lucidity, checked to see if they really had put the other body there. He had regretted it. The rats had already been at the body, chunks of skin were missing, particularly around the soft fleshy parts. He had vomited again, more water and bile than anything else; he couldn’t bring himself to eat.
He wasn’t sure if he was thinking clearly anymore. The memories kept replaying in his head every time he closed his eyes, in his ears every time there was silence. His every thought was painful and stilted. He couldn’t even think of Car-it without wanting to fall to pieces.
He hadn’t done anything to save her.
That thought echoed in his head over and over. He no longer thought about how she had sold him. It didn’t matter anymore. It wasn’t a betrayal, because she had never promised him anything. He wasn’t sad, because they weren’t a real family. He gritted his teeth. For now, what was more important was to continue forward.
I couldn’t save her, but I can get her revenge. This would be his method of moving forward. After, he could worry about what to do next. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t bear for those bastards to go free, not while she-. He already knew them, one by name, and the other by voice and occupation. He knew they worked for the broker, knew that he could find them.
He wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t face them on even ground, even though he had Car-the knife, even if he had the staff. Those two had broken it before they left. If anything, it was the ring that could give him the advantage. But he didn’t plan to rely only on that. After all, if one of them touched him its usefulness would end.
Well, I’m not the type to fight fair anyway. He was too scrawny. Too small. Too young. He might have been able to use that, if those two were the type to be sympathetic to children, but he knew better. Ronald, at least, had never looked at him with pity.
Since he couldn’t return home, he had to find somewhere else to stay. Though the alleys were dark enough even in daytime for the ring to hide him, if he continued to use it 24/7, it would run out of mana and he would be left without his biggest trump card.
He abandoned that house for the middle slums. He avoided his past haunts to avoid the Cyclops and his men, and bought a too-large cap at a vendor for several coppers. He held it low over his face. Now, with his layered clothes making him look slightly heavier and the cap to hide his face, it would be harder for people looking for him to find him. He had also used some of Car-some techniques to change his appearance even more, making his skin darker. The way he was, he guessed he must look like a beast-tribe mixed blood.
There were plenty of places in the middle slums where one more orphan would go unnoticed. He ended up in the back of a deserted alley. The night was cold, but the layered clothing made it more bearable. He curled up behind a particularly large pile of trash. The stench didn’t bother him, it couldn’t even compare to the scent of-. There were rats in this alley too, but luckily the trash was a better source of food for them than him. He kept one hand on the ring just in case. He needed to plan things out, determine the best time to-. His dark thoughts weren’t enough to keep exhaustion from him.
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He made his way to the broker’s house. Then he settled down to wait. He had crouched down under a small overhang to make himself less noticeable. His legs started to cramp, but he didn’t move. He just waited. Eventually, Ronald came out of the building. Spark considered, for a moment, whether to go after him or wait for the other. Both of them were equally guilty, but he knew Ronald a bit better. Ronald would be easier to find. So, he continued to wait until Carv-the second assailant left the building.
Spark followed him, now using the ring. He was careful with his steps to prevent making any noise that could give him away. Somehow, now that he was moving, his steps felt light. That man ended up in a seedy-looking pub, not surprising because most pubs in the slums looked seedy. Spark waited outside until the man left again, several hours later and with staggering steps. Spark followed him back; obviously that man was going home.
Spark felt a surge of adrenaline go through him, it might be a good time to-. No. Spark wasn’t going to give in to the urge to finish him now. Even if he was vulnerable from alcohol, there was a chance things could go bad. Spark wasn’t going to do anything unless there was no chance he’d lose. She deserved at least that much. He couldn’t afford to be careless. Apparently the man was living by the edge of the border, as was Ronald. They lived only a short ways away from each other, each house about the same distance from the broker.
It made things more difficult, but also slightly more convenient. He had planned to kill them both during the same night in order to prevent the other from being on guard. He’d just have to figure out a way to do it. Well, he had the ring, so he wouldn’t be noticed as long as he traveled at night.
He spent the next several days observing them, tailing them on their not-so-innocent forays. Spark was always careful to make sure the ring had time to fill with ambient mana during these tailings. They went to a few places frequently, run down looking buildings in the middle slums. They often met with equally thug-like men. At one point they even returned to Spark’s home. He remembered that they were looking for something. They must not have found it yet. He wondered what it was that could be so important to put so much time into getting it back. Then, he shrugged it off, he had preparations to make.
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He picked a day when that man went to the bar and Ronald was out doing another search. After a day of searching, Ronald usually went home tired. Spark assumed he immediately went to bed, for there were never any lights on in the house and Ronald wasn’t a member of the beast tribe, so he couldn’t see in the dark. The other man was useless after drinking, so that part should be easy.
While Ronald was out, Spark slipped in through the man’s front door. Picking locks was one other thing he’d learned from Car-one other thing he’d learned. He walked as silently as possible down the hall, searching for the bedroom. This place was small compared to the broker’s. There was a small kitchen and dining area combined into one, and a bedroom. There was a privy outside.
The house didn’t have windows, most houses didn’t. Windows were only for the extremely wealthy, or those with enough security to not have to fear break-ins. Because of this, the house was very dark, even during the daytime. Spark had heard that some places had mana stones that could emit light like lanterns, but he had never seen them.
Spark moved towards the bedding, set down the pail he’d been carrying long enough for his arms to be sore. His breathing picked up. He tilted the pail over the bedding just enough for some of the water to wet the blankets near the pillow. After they were thoroughly damp, he let the pail fall completely onto its side. The next part would be tricky. He put the ring back on.
He waited several minutes, ensuring that there was no more water pouring out. Then, he carefully pulled the netting from the pail and waited. There was a reason he had done this roughly two hours before Ronald would be coming back.
The creature he’d had trapped inside was slow to move, but move it did. It left the now-empty bucket and squirmed into the wetted blankets. Spark, slowly as to not disturb it, pulled the pail away. Then he slowly moved back, careful to keep his steps silent. He crouched in the corner of the room behind a small dresser.
Now, we wait.
Ronald got back just after sunset, as Spark expected. Spark’s heart started to race once he heard the front door open. He listened to the heavy footsteps, boots stomping towards the bedroom. The door opened, Ronald-he assumed it was Ronald as he couldn’t see the man from his position-entered. Ronald grunted and Spark’s heart nearly stopped. He was clutching the knife so hard his knuckles were probably white, but he couldn’t look down to check.
Ronald bent down and pulled his boots off. Spark was holding his breath without realizing it.
The man who’d killed his m-her moved towards the bed and sat down on it. He let out a yawn, and lowered himself onto the pillow. He was more than in range, and he was a threat. Even though the snake had been calm, when something landed close to it, it reacted.
Spark heard Ronald make a startled sound, saw him jerk onto his back before going still. He could hear his own heartbeat, so loud in the dark and the quiet. For the first time since that incident, the silence wasn’t filling his head with voices.
He moved forward cautiously, but Ronald didn’t move. Spark experimentally kicked at the dresser, but didn’t even see a twitch. So, he crept closer. He’d had a lot of time for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He could see the man, lying on his back. He could half make out his features, even from this distance. They were frozen in shock.
As Spark got closer, he could see more details. Robert was staring forward, his eyes twitching from left to right. The snake had-like the other one had to Spark-gotten beneath his clothing. Spark could see the edge of the tail disappear from around the man’s neck as the body squirmed under his collar.
Spark was still careful; he didn’t need to make any noise that could cause the snake to react. He held the knife out. Ronald’s eyes were still darting around fearfully, looking down at his body, then back to the pillow. His expression… Did my face look like that? Spark shook his head. It didn’t matter. What mattered was what those men had done to her. Unforgivable. He couldn’t let them get away with it.
Spark wondered how Ronald would feel if he pulled off the ring. Wondered if he would feel that same fear and helplessness that Spark felt that night. But it was unnecessary. He drew to the side of the bed. He looked at the man’s face again.
Carver had taught him to always go for the neck if you could. It was in order to prevent the person from crying out and to make sure they died quickly. Belly wounds came second, as they could have someone linger for a lot longer than you wanted them to.
Spark’s hands were shaking. He gritted his teeth. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t helpless. He would do it. He couldn’t waste any more time. He still had one more after this. He couldn’t afford to draw this out. He used one hand to hold Ronald’s hair, to give more leverage, not to keep Ronald still.
Ronald’s eyes flicked towards him in shock at the touch. He stared at Spark with a complete lack of recognition. Well, even if Spark hadn’t disguised himself, he probably still wouldn’t have been recognized. After all, the man had never bothered to learn his name.
He put the knife to Ronald’s neck and, with a quick slash, slid the knife against the man’s throat.
It was a bit difficult. His hands were shaking and he didn’t get deep enough the first time. He had to slash twice more. Even so, it was easier than he thought it would be. The knife fell through the skin with little resistance.
Blood sprayed. Spark was doused in the warm fluid.
Ronald’s eyes widened. Spark watched confusion, fear, pain, and despair flicker through his eyes. Those eyes stared at him the whole time with guilt, blame, and something that might have been hatred. Then the eyes went glassy. It was fine, to be hated. It didn’t matter if people or gods scorned him. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t forgiven, or if he became a demon in his next life. Spark had chosen, he couldn’t go back, so he could only go forward.
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He took his first life. It wouldn’t be his last. He felt cold. Spark stared at the body for a long time. The eyes, though glassy, still seemed to reflect hatred as he looked into them. It’s fine if you can’t forgive me. I can’t even forgive myself. He didn’t know if he was addressing the absent gods or the soul of the man before him. Or maybe, those words were for the one he couldn’t save.
He didn’t regret it, he didn’t.
This much was nothing.
Car-she had also killed before. It didn’t matter; it was just something one does to survive.
But a treacherous thought reminded him that this wasn’t for survival. Just like the Rune hidden in designs on pure black cloth. Cold, calculated. It wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t needed. I’m just doing what I want. Selfishly, cruelly, under-handedly, he’d done what he wanted, giving no chance for defeat or retaliation. My choice, my decision. It wasn’t even a question of right or wrong. Even if… Even if it felt like he had lost something precious here, it couldn’t compare to what he’d lost before. He refused to feel guilty, refused to regret, refused to fall to despair. He sealed away all of those feelings. If he stopped here, it would all be for nothing.
Spark took a deep breath, and felt the cold air seeping into him. It was a familiar coldness, like from that night. The same cold had numbed him during the worst of the despair, the moment when he thought he couldn’t continue on, the same cold had allowed him to think clearly in spite of his turmoil, and now, it was numbing him once again, allowing him to finish what he started.
He had more work to do.
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He cleaned himself as best he could before he left the house, but he was very grateful for the ring and glad he had had the foresight to let it store mana for a few days before getting his revenge. Otherwise he doubted he would have been able to avoid notice with blood all over him, even in the slums.
It was earlier than he expected. The second was probably still drinking. Well, Spark didn’t need to track him down. He went to the man’s house, and waited, just like he had waited for Ronald.
The man came home. Spark didn’t feel tense like before. The entire situation felt surreal. His mind was sharp, but brittle like ice, he could only think about what was to come. The past was frozen in the persisting numbness.
The man was drunk, staggering. He took one last swig from a dark bottle before throwing himself into bed fully clothed, boots and all.
Spark waited, he was good at being patient. He waited until the man’s breathing eased. He waited until the man started snoring deeply.
Then he got up.
He walked forward, not as cautious as before, he didn’t need to be. He positioned himself behind the man. With one smooth motion, he jerked the man’s head back with one hand and used the other to slit his throat.
The second time was much easier than the first. He was cutting towards himself this time, and his hands weren’t shaking. This time, the blood gushed forward towards the bed. The man had roused, had jerked his hand up to his neck. It was too late for him. He twitched a lot and let out odd gurgling sounds as he died. Spark thought, whimsically, that he had never bothered to learn this man’s name either. He didn’t want to know it. Didn’t want to have a way to define the man by something other than what he’d done.
He had done it, gotten revenge. But he didn’t feel any better. He still felt cold.
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Before all of this, Spark had thought a lot whether to go after the broker too, in the end, he had decided not to. The broker had ordered her death, but even though it had been the broker’s order to kill her, he hadn’t ordered… that. So Spark couldn’t blame him for that part. He wondered if Carv-she had just been killed rather than… what they did to her, if he would have run away instead. He thought he might have. If her death had been less brutal, less horrible, he might not have gotten revenge. He might not have killed those men.
But, after killing the second, he decided he had to kill the broker. But this time was different. It wasn’t for Carv- revenge this time. This time was for Spark. Just like he went after those two for killing her, the broker might come after him for killing his thugs. Unlike for the others, Spark didn’t have a plan to deal with the broker. He’d just have to rely completely on the ring and the knife.
It was late, the night felt like it would last forever. Spark walked up the broker’s door. His body was almost moving on its own. Mechanically, without thinking about it, he turned the doorknob. The door opened easily, but somehow, Spark didn’t even feel surprised.
The broker’s house was much bigger than the other two. Spark walked down the hallway. It was quiet. He had been through here before, it had only been a week ago, but somehow it felt like forever. He walked down the hall; his steps were light without him even trying.
He was surprised to hear voices from down the hall. He couldn’t bring himself to be nervous, as though his emotions had been drained out of him. He felt like he had lost something precious and untenable. The door was open, he could see right in. Unlike those two, the broker had windows in his house.
There were two men in front of the broker’s desk; there was an empty bag and a pile of spilled silver on it. They were both tall and dressed dark. Spark got the feeling that they were dangerous, but he couldn’t feel fear. He was too numb. The broker was sitting at his desk, but he was slumped over it. Dead, a small voice whispered to him, like the others.
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Now what? It was as though the ice covering his heart and sharpening his thoughts shattered. He no longer had a goal, no longer had a plan.
“It’s his own fault. What did he think would happen after he lost merchandise like that?” The larger one complained.
“As if a few silvers would be enough.” The pile had to have at least 100 silvers.
“Do you think it really was stolen?”
“Well, it wasn’t in the safe. Besides, this guy seemed like a coward, if he had had it, he would have given it up to live.” The two of them were rifling through the desk.
“Damn bastard, making us come all the way to a backwater town like this.”
Spark was frozen, not out of fear; he didn’t know what was freezing him. He had thought before that it didn’t matter for what reason Carv-she was killed. He had thought that whatever she stole wasn’t important, but if it was the reason for everything, it had to be important. Carver, Ronald, that thug, and now the broker. All of them were dead. What is it? It was a dizzying thought, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Just like the question of his worth, the answer might only bring despair. No. He didn’t want to know what her life was worth to those people, he staggered back.
He really just should have gotten out of there when he had the chance. By the time he came to his senses and started to retreat, it was already too late. The larger man jerked his head around. Spark would never know if it was the sound of his breath or if it was the scent of blood on him that caused the man to turn towards him.
The man, a beast-tribe, now that Spark could see him up close, closed the distance between them in a flash. His hand slashed out in Spark’s general direction. Spark tried to dodge, but at the first step, the man corrected his stance, pivoting and lunging forward. Spark didn’t have time to bring up the knife before the man was on him. The beast-man’s hands missed him, aiming too high, but the man’s body crashed into him, causing them to fall back into the hallway. It felt like being slammed into a wall-Spark had experience with that too.
The man swore and grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him, really slamming him into the wall this time. The man used one hand to hold him there and his other to easily pin down the hand holding the knife. He squeezed, and Spark was forced to let go. The bloody blade clattered to the ground. Damn, he can see me now. Escape was already impossible, even though the door was so close. Spark didn’t bother struggling, the cold had completely left him, his composure going with it and leaving him tired and drained.
“What are you doing?” The second man had a surprised look on his face as he stared at his partner.
“Catching a witness.” The beast-man said. He had wolf ears and dark gray eyes.
“Don’t see anything. Magic?” He sounded almost hopeful.
“It’s a kid, so it’s an item.” The beast-man, Wolf, Spark decided-he was tired of faces without names-said.
“Damn.” Magic Lover, Spark dubbed him internally.
Wolf turned back to him, staring at him intently. Spark didn’t like it, so bared his teeth, the universal beast man signal for back off. The wolf snorted.
“What’s so funny?”
“This kid.”
“Ah, whatever. I’m leaving first. You take care of him.”
“Fine.”
“No witnesses.”
“Fine.” Wolf was obviously irritated. He waited for the other one to leave before saying anything else. He continued to stare at the boy, taking in the bloody clothes. His eyes flickered to the knife on the floor.
“What?” Spark didn’t like the look in his eyes. He didn’t like that sharp gaze, didn’t like that Wolf seemed to see through him. He didn’t need pity. Not from another killer.
Wolf raised a brow, “Why did you come here? If you answer I might let you live.”
Spark snorted at that, “Yeah, right.” He jerked his head in the broker’s direction, “He was supposed to be mine.”
The wolf blinked before laughing uproariously. “Yours? That guy? What did he ever do to you?”
“His men raped and killed my mother.” Spark said flatly. Not-mother, he corrected internally, and not the reason I was going to kill him. At this point, it didn’t really matter though. He winced, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment, it was the first time he had called her that, and the first time he had talked about her death. Just the words caused a flash of memories, made more pronounced with his eyes closed. He opened them as suddenly as he’d shut them. He didn’t need to be distracted.
The wolf wasn’t laughing anymore; he looked at the blood again and then pulled up the boy’s left hand and sniffed it. Spark fought the urge to pull it back, knowing Wolf was far stronger and faster than him.
“How many men?” Wolf’s eyes had slid half closed, but they still glinted dangerously, watching for any sign of deception.
“Just the two, she killed the third before they got her.” He didn’t have a reason to lie, since it wasn’t something that would change by talking about it.
“Huh,” he was staring at him again, something unreadable in his eyes.
“I got them both, if your creepy little sniffing thing didn’t tell you already.” Spark was irritated and tired, and he thought the other man would respect strength.
The wolf smiled at that, “You’re a pretty interesting kid.”
“I get that a lot.”
Wolf grinned, a predatory thing will all his teeth showing. “Let’s hope you stay that way.”
Then, he pulled out a knife and stabbed Spark in the stomach.
He let go of Spark’s shirt then and stepped back, taking the knife with him. Spark put his hands to his stomach, feeling the thick flow of blood from the wound. He felt the blood drain from his face as the searing pain finally registered. He pulled one hand up, visibly confirming the direness of his situation.
“Ugh.” It couldn’t be called a scream. The only reason he was still standing was because he was leaning against the wall. He started to topple, raising one hand to try to stop his fall. He only left a bloody smear on the wall as he collapsed.
Wolf had turned away, walked the few steps to the back door. He turned around at the doorway, speaking so quietly that Spark didn’t know if he was really speaking or if the words were just his imagination.
“If you’re strong, you’ll survive. Good luck.” The last Spark saw of Wolf was his infuriatingly cocky grin. The bastard even left the door cracked to mock him.
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AN: This chapter was a nightmare.
The first time I wrote it, I was influenced by one of my readers saying "Heads must roll," a few too many Halloween movies, and one too many drinks, so this chapter ended up some twisted parody of a Chuckie movie. The second time I wrote it, trying to stay as far away from the first attempt as possible, I made Spark a whiny crybaby. Needless to say, both versions were trashed and I ended up with this... It is subject to rewrites at any time, as I was not completely satisfied with it.
Questions? Comments?
Next update: SOON*TM
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